The Gems of Raga-Tor (Elemental Legends Book 1)

by CA Morgan

  Eris dove forward beneath the swing of a mighty battle ax and rolled to a halt on his knees before the ax wielder. Lunging forward, crisscrossed strokes of the double swords gutted the fighter in front of him. He spun a quarter turn and leaned back on one elbow. The left-hand sword swung up and back taking the hands off of a pikeman. His right-hand sword shot up from the ground and plunged into another man’s belly.

  He got to his feet to see the fifth attacker bearing down on him with sword and shield ready. Sword smashed against shield shattering it and the arm beneath as Eris brought his great strength against the fifth and most powerful fighter of the five. He feinted high, then swung low cutting deeply into the man’s leg. Undone by both blows, the man staggered back a step and dropped his guard, though slightly. Eris found his opportunity. His ribs heaved in a great lungful of air. A wave of muscle flexed and rippled across his chest as his arms arced backwards leaving his chest vulnerable for one quick, taunting moment before his shoulders drove both blades downward. The blades bit into the flesh and bone of the man’s shoulders and trisected him deep into his ribs. Blood sprayed in every direction and Eris turned his head against the thick drops. The phantom warrior let go a final gasp as Eris’ foot struck him mid-chest and knocked him back to clear the blood-slick blades from his body.

  “Hah! Raga, those were five of your best,” Eris shouted triumphantly. Streams of sweat colored pink with splattered blood rolled down his face and chest that had been tanned by Raga’s sun. He swung his swords with a flourish and then crossed them as he brought them down in front of his chest and gave Raga a bow. He picked up a rag and wiped the gore from the blades then tossed it back to the ground where it disappeared with the phantom warriors’ torn corpses.

  “Now you know that Eris Pann is the best,” he said with a confident smile as he put the swords into their respective sheaths that hung from a branch. He turned and walked with a bit of swagger toward Raga as one hand drew off the green band he had tied around his head. He tossed it onto the shady ledge where Raga sat to watch the mock attacks and then pulled himself onto it with a show of bravado.

  “The best at being arrogant and smelling like a pig is more like it,” Raga quipped. “Go throw yourself in the pond and clean up a little.”

  “All right, but when I come back we’re going to discuss our plans to capture Charra-Tir. I'm as good as new.” Eris pulled off his boots and let them fall to the ground where they landed with a thump. He jumped from the ledge, loped across the practice field and plunged into the pond’s cool water that was refreshingly real, not illusion.

  Raga sighed and rested his head against the cool rock wall that was part of the ledge. As thrilled as he was for Eris’ progress, so he was equally saddened. He had longed for him to heal and had berated the gods that it had taken overlong for him to do so, but now that he had, he wished against it. Eris was better than well now and they needed to finish what they agreed upon. Once that task was accomplished, Eris would go back to his people, to his own world where magic was feared, and himself to the pits to fulfill his obligation to Riza; nothing at all to look forward to and be happy about.

  Now that he and Eris were on cordial terms, he realized even more how much he enjoyed his company, but he knew as well that Eris was young, bristling with renewed life and the clarion call of adventure was not far away.

  Considering the fight he had just witnessed, he realized that Eris had spoken the truth when he said that his most recent injuries were not common for him and were the result of Riza’s interference. It was no wonder he was so highly sought after to ride the caravan routes, and reap the rewards of any young man in the flower of youth. Raga had already started to sense Eris’ impatience to leave the Vale and be done with the things they needed to finish. So it must be.

  Eris swam the length of the pond several times and then rested as he floated on the sun-sparkling surface. Raga’s sun felt warm on his face and for a few sweet moments he forgot that it wasn’t real and that it was really the red and black pockmarked sky that soared over him. He was more than pleased with the results of his recovery and decided that if his new-found strength and vitality remained even after he left the Red Vale, the price of the pain he had suffered was a fair price.

  He hoped their departure would be soon, though. It had taken him quite some time to get used to the idea that he was still within the Vale walls, and struggled to be calm and let down his guard for fear that some other strange thing would happen to him. But nothing happened, nothing appeared out of the ordinary and he found himself growing accustomed to the place, even going so far as to look forward to Raga’s magical feasts.

  Kicking up a splash, Eris rolled to his belly and swam a few more lengths before stepping from the water. He shook his head and sent sparkling droplets in every direction from whip-like strands of hair that had grown long past his shoulders during his convalescence.

  Returning to Raga’s perch, his belly growled when he saw that the sorcerer had indeed prepared one of those feasts and had not bothered to wait for him before eating.

  “You should stay in the sun until you dry a little,” Raga said as water got on everything.

  “You shouldn’t fuss so much, Raga. A little water won’t hurt and might wash away your ill mood."

  “What ill mood?”

  “The one you’re having right now. After all these months together, do you think I don’t know you?” Eris said, filling his plate with roasted meat and bread.

  “Hmmph,” Raga snorted and filled his plate with game hens.

  “You should be happy. You don’t have to play nursemaid anymore, the horses are ready to go and Charra-Tir will be rather surprised to find us at her door. What’s the weather like outside the Vale anyway?”

  “It’s the deep of winter. Why?”

  “I was just trying to think of the best route through the Zephyran Mountains to get to Charra-Tir’s keep.”

  “Don’t even bother thinking about it. With the restoration of my power, we don’t need the horses anymore to get where we’re going and my posterior is very thankful,” Raga said. He saw some of the light go out of Eris’ face at his words. “Listen, as long as we’re to be friends, you will just have to live with a little magic just as I have to live with that nasty temper of yours.”

  “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “No, but you should be somewhat accustomed to it by now.”

  “I suppose.” Eris shrugged and picked up a piece of honeyed cake. “All I want to do now is confront that witch and get on with my life. How soon can you be ready to leave?”

  “Whenever you want as long as you think you are well enough."

  “I’m better than well, so what about in the morning? Those dreams are starting to come back and the force of Erisa is rising fast.”

  “Very well. Pack your things and tomorrow it will be. Let’s hope the weather in Zephyra is as it should be to carry out our plan,” Raga consented, but he wasn’t happy.

  Chapter 8

  The Road to Zephyra

  The morning sky grew pink and slowly blue as Raga’s sunrise rarely changed in form or color. The sorcerer stood in the grass outside his home and ran a finger along the smooth curve of his bow. He was dressed as he was when he and Eris had first met in Rennas Baye, which now seemed long ago. The gold thread sewn into the red velvet of his tunic flickered as tiny flames. His black trousers were neat and clean, and this morning found a red velvet beret placed at a jaunty angle on his head.

  “Eris, I thought you were in a hurry. What’s taking you so long?” Raga shouted up to the cave entrance.

  “I’m looking for that bundle of daggers I took from Reshan,” he shouted back.

  “Under the bed.”

  A moment later Eris stepped from the cave with the small bundle strapped over one shoulder. The jeweled hilt of the Tamori sword indeed looked like a kingly treasure hanging at his side. The hilt of a plain dagger stuck up from his left boot top, and both bracers wer
e tied on and laden with weapons. As he skipped down the steps to the grass, he tied his favorite green sash around his head to keep the hair from his face.

  “Are you sure you can’t cut some of this off? It’s not that difficult a thing to do,” Eris said, flipping errant strands out of his collar.

  “No, I can’t”

  “I think it’s because you don’t want to, not that you can’t. I think it reminds you of Erisa,” Eris said. He pulled a short dagger from the right bracer and reached behind his head.

  Raga grabbed his arm and pulled his hand back down.

  “Don’t tease. You’re still not uncursed, and we don’t have time for this foolishness. Now, pay attention. Are you ready?” Raga said gruffly.

  Eris re-sheathed the dagger and breathed audibly.

  “Yes. What are we going to do?”

  Raga fingered the bowstring. “How about if we just get where we’re going and I’ll explain later. I don’t feel like experiencing one of your tantrums this morning."

  “No. I want to know what to expect. You promised me that you would explain beforehand. Although,” Eris accused, pointing a finger at him, “you haven’t been very good at keeping that promise.”

  “Fine. Just remember that you wanted to know,” Raga sighed and turned to look Eris in the face. Eris nodded for him to continue. “I want you to hold on to my shoulder or a handful of fabric if it makes you feel better. Then, I’ll shoot an arrow in the direction we want to go and we’ll go.”

  “How?”

  “The simplest way to explain it is this; we turn into a bolt of lightning and streak across the sky until we reach our destination. Once we’ve arrived, we reform in a sense and land safe and sound on the ground."

  “Fly? You're telling me we are going to fly?” Eris wasn't sure if he should feel amazed, terrified or both. In either case, his stomach knotted and his heart raced.

  “Lightning bolts don’t fly,” Raga said impatiently. “Besides, you’ve already traveled this way once, you just don’t remember it. Even the horses came along,” he added. He took a hold of Eris’ hand and placed it firmly on his shoulder.

  “I don’t like this very much,” Eris said in a low voice.

  “Too bad for you, because I’m not riding a horse again for a long time, and especially not for weeks through the cold and snow.” Raga put the shaft to the string, drew back the bow and aimed.

  Eris clutched a great handful of Raga’s tunic just as the bowstring snapped loud in his ears. He held his breath as he felt himself pulled skyward and hoped they didn’t come apart. The red and black sky of the Vale flashed like a nightmare before his eyes, but was quickly replaced by the curve of turquoise blue beyond the Red Vale’s wall.

  The arrow flew swift and true toward its destination with Raga and Eris trailing behind as a fiery flame that streaked across the wide arc of a cloudless sky and startled both king and peasant alike.

  When Eris dared to look down, he was amazed by the appearance of the ground flowing by far below. He felt unexpected exhilaration surge through him brought on by the speed at which they traveled and by the tremendous power that snapped and sizzled a mere hand’s span away. Thin wisps of air that got through the fiery trail surrounding them felt cold and crisp.

  The air grew colder as they continued north and neared the coastal mountains of Zephyra. The clouds thickened and through rare gaps they caught sight of heavy gray seas and the whitecaps of rolling surf as it pounded the rocks along the shore.

  Eris felt his stomach roll as the earth came up fast beneath them and he knew they had reached their destination. As Raga promised, the touch-down was light, lighter even than jumping from the back of a horse. In spite of his misgivings, Eris had to agree that this was a better way to travel than spending no less than two weeks in a cold, stiff saddle.

  Raga smiled when he saw Eris’ face unusually full of life and eyes bright with something akin to joy if that was an emotion he was capable of feeling.

  “I think you enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Raga asked, smugly. He reached down, pulled the spent arrow from the mossy ground and slid it back into the quiver.

  “I wouldn’t mind doing it again,” Eris answered before his mind consciously thought about it. An odd look came suddenly to his face when he realized what foolishness his tongue had uttered.

  Raga’s laughter rumbled like distant thunder as he shook his scruffy head.

  “Hah! There really is a feel for adventure under that black scowl of yours,” Raga said, and slapped him on the back. “Come on, let’s see how close we’ve landed to the witch’s keep. The gods must be smiling on us today to have given us such perfect weather.”

  Eris nodded and followed Raga up a narrow ravine that lead to the top of a windswept hill. The terrain was rocky, damp and the clouds overhead threatened to make it even wetter. Clumps of scruffy grass grew in cracks of crumbling rocks, and blue-green moss grew in crevices sheltered from the scouring winds. Scraggly pines and other trees, bent and deformed by the constant wind blowing in from the sea, lined the hilltop.

  As they neared the crest, the sound of pounding surf grew louder and the wind's speed increased as they left the sheltering ravine. The heavy clouds let in little of the morning’s light and varying shades of gray colored the countryside. Beyond the frothy surf, the sea stretched gray and desolate to the horizon. Sea birds cried in forlorn voices as they hunted for their breakfast. From the tree line, the land sloped rapidly down to the sea and was spotted with patches of dry, yellow grass. The sand was an unhappy shade of gray and added to the desolate mood brought on by heavy clouds and murky green water.

  “There’s the keep on the cliffs yonder,” Eris said and pointed. He squatted behind a brown volcanic outcropping of rock to protect himself from the biting wind.

  “Good. We won’t have far to walk. I didn’t want to come too close just in case Charra-Tir recognized my bolt,” Raga said.

  “How could she not? I don’t think lightning is too common here,” Eris said and spoke too soon as bright light streaked across the leaden sky. Rumbling thunder echoed over and over as the sound was trapped between clouds and water. He looked up just as heavy drops fell and splattered his face. “Tell me again why we needed weather like this.”

  “Come over here.” Raga motioned as the wind whipped the words away from him. Eris followed him to a rocky alcove that gave them shelter from the wind, but did little to shield the rain. “Ahhh,” Raga said, rubbing his ears vigorously. “Now I can hear again.”

  Eris sat down on the most comfortable rock he could find. It was better than in the mud. He pulled up the cloak’s hood over his head.

  “Now, as I was going to say,” Raga said, trying to get situated, “Charra-Tir’s magic is a little different than mine. I need my gemstones to focus my power, because there is so much of it. Though we elementals are powerful, we are not like the gods who can control their vast powers at will.

  “As we have both learned and come to appreciate, my focus is my bow and the three stones set in it. With that focus gone, my power drifted out of my control. I have the feeling that had I understood this a little better before, I could have chosen something else as my focus and that frightful dissipation would never have occurred.

  “But that—” Raga paused abruptly feeling that peculiar sensation of Eris glaring at him, which he was. All previous good humor vanished. “I only meant it was a possibility. I’ve never tested it. Besides, I still needed these gems back. You can’t have the gems of a pure elemental drifting free in the world. Morengoth isn’t the only one with the ability to have eventually figured out how to use them.”

  “All right, enough. Go on with what you were telling me.” Eris pulled the cloak tighter around his shoulders.

  “Well, Charra-Tir doesn’t really have a focus. She wears a bauble around her neck that helps her some, but it really isn’t necessary. They collect some of their power from the things around them."

  “Then I guess on one level w
e can’t really fault her for being greedy for more."

  “Yes, we can, because her kind has plenty of power in simply existing as the entity they are. When she creates sea storms, there is a reciprocal effect and she gets power from them. Even bathing in the sea gives her strength. It’s when second-level elementals desire more, more strength, more power that they become dangerous. But in that moment of trying to wrest that bit of power from the sea, the wind, the storm, she will become vulnerable to anything or anyone that commands even the lowest form of magic. Which is what I think you know already, because your plan was to touch her with that earth elemental talisman you have,” Raga explained as his fingers gently rubbed the curve of the bow. Eris nodded at his supposition. “That’s also why you are going to be a great help in capturing the wench and you’ll have a good deal of control in getting yourself uncursed.”

  “Me? You’re speaking foolishness again, Raga. You have the stones, not me,” Eris said.

  “Think for a moment.” Raga spoke through the mind bond. “I still believe you have some latent power within you that only time will reveal. I still think there might be a piece of that demon you saw destroyed wedged in you. I thought it was Riza before, but he’s gone and the bond is still in place.”

  “I think I’d know if I had demon ilk inside me.”

  “Could explain that temper of yours.”

  “Doubt it. It’s always been there. I can’t believe this bond still exists,” Eris said. In his struggle for recovery, he’d never bothered to see if it remained. “I thought it was supposed to fade. Surely my almost death should have undone this.”